


A Certain Touch

by teatales



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Felching, Hair-pulling, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Sex, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatales/pseuds/teatales
Summary: “Let me,” Crowley begged.“Let you what, my darling?” Aziraphale asked, happy but unsure.Crowley swallowed down his embarrassment and met Aziraphale’s eyes. He tried not to focus on the askew bow-tie and how deliciously rumpled the angel looked. “You’ve mentioned, how, how you’ve only ever felt safe in the bookshop. But you were taken and it, the fire, and obviously - you know - upstairs has never really been a home at all. Here is great, 'course. Anywhere you are is but, um." He dug his teeth into his lip before he continued, before he confessed. "So I was thinking, maybe. Let me be that place.Yourwarm place, to come home to, to, to be in. Somewhere you can... unwind. Maybe. Please?” Crowley finished softly, cheeks flushed.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 253
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	A Certain Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'm still working on nano!! This just, uh, happened. 
> 
> Line in the summary/fic is inspired by one in a HP fic I read ages ago and apparently absorbed into my subconscious cause I had to do some frantic googling. I always feel weird about marking cross-fandom inspiration but if you like Drarry and/or kink I'm more than happy to link you to it cause it's. Whew. Phenomenal. 
> 
> Title from Claws by Washington, which would probably be better for an angst fic but it's what I was listening to today. I did hear some old horny song I know the other day but can I remember it? Of course not. Honestly if you have horny song recs for an ace person who mostly listens to 80s pop and musical theatre, I would love to hear them. I hate coming up with titles on my own and I think I've maxed out the Hozier fic title generator.
> 
> EDIT: also if you like your fic with some visual accompaniment, check out this GORGEOUS piece by mundycide which is how I imagine the first part of the fic (I have such a thing for lapsitting yall dont even know): https://ineffable-anathema.tumblr.com/post/188868907563

It had been months since they had stopped the end of the world, months since they had gotten together. In the minds of two eternal beings, though, they were barely into the infancy of their relationship. There were so many things they had yet to try, so many words still unsaid. 

They loved each other - deeply, completely, with everything in them. They had proposed - Aziraphale first, in a traditional way. He desperately wanted to be Crowley’s husband. Crowley’s proposal was more modern (and more chaotic. Aziraphale still wasn't sure how he had trained the ducks) but it had the same kind of meaning behind it. He needed to be Aziraphale’s everything. 

Crowley was still learning to _say_ the words, to convey all that Aziraphale meant to him within the confines of the English language. He was better at _doing_ things - showing not telling - which the angel noticed, and appreciated deeply. But he knew, Crowley did, that there was something just on the tip of his tongue that had to be shared aloud. 

It was a slow Sunday afternoon. They had been “making out” (as Crowley called it) for sometime now, in the armchair beside their bed. Crowley was sprawled over Aziraphale’s lap, squirming, and had gotten increasingly worked up over the past half-hour. His cock was hard in his trousers - so was Aziraphale’s for that matter, but he didn’t appear as affected - and he couldn’t stop the slew of embarrassing noises that leaked out of him. With one final bite to his lip he broke off, panting. 

“Let me,” Crowley begged. 

“Let you what, my darling?” Aziraphale asked, happy but unsure. 

Crowley swallowed down his embarrassment and met Aziraphale’s eyes. He tried not to focus on the askew bow-tie and how deliciously rumpled the angel looked. “You’ve mentioned, how, how you’ve only ever felt safe in the bookshop. But you were taken and it, the fire, and obviously - you know - upstairs has never really been a home at all. Here is great, 'course. Anywhere you are is but, um." He dug his teeth into his lip before he continued, before he confessed. "So I was thinking, maybe. Let me be that place. _Your_ warm place, to come home to, to, to be in. Somewhere you can... unwind. Maybe. Please?” Crowley finished softly, cheeks flushed. 

Aziraphale’s eyebrows had raised during the speech but his expression softened considerably. Oh, his heart. Crowley managed to reach it and squeeze it tight in his fist. Aziraphale did his best to breathe through it all. Crowley, meanwhile, braced for the inevitable rejection to his foolish request, but none came. In fact, Aziraphale’s eyes went a little misty. 

“Of course, dear. You’ve been my home for so long now,” Aziraphale said, still ridiculously composed. He lifted a hand to cup Crowley’s cheek whose eyes fluttered shut at the gesture. He smiled sweetly.

“On the bed, then,” Aziraphale instructed. Crowley scrambled to follow the order, his clothes disappearing on the way. 

He lay down on his back at first but Aziraphale flipped him over not at all gently. Crowley pillowed his head in his arms and waited, breathless. 

The sound of the drawer announced Aziraphale’s movements, as did the click of the lube cap being opened. That was the only warning Crowley was given before the angel slowly but steadily entered him with two fingers. 

Almighty _someone_ did Crowley love those hands. Thick and warm and rough in all the right places. Crowley had spent years obsessing and fantasising about them in turn. When they finally got together Crowley had been, well, quite obvious about his kink. He sucked on them at every opportunity and Aziraphale soon picked up the hint. He had fingered him for _hours_ , both in his arse and the variety of Efforts he manifested. Currently, though, it seemed to be more of a brief stopping place between now and being fucked. 

Aziraphale was intensely thorough but definitely quicker about it than usual. All Crowley could do was lay there and moan wantonly. This was, after all, what he asked for. 

“You _are_ gorgeous like this, Crowley. I am terribly fond of your face, of course,” he said conversationally, three fingers deep in Crowley’s arse. Aziraphale sought out his prostate and stroked it mercilessly. “This view is nice, too.” 

Crowley felt like his brain had melted out of his ears. His cock was hard beneath him but he knew moving would only make Aziraphale’s fingers jostle his prostate more. 

With one final stroke Aziraphale pulled out his fingers. Crowley whined at the loss. 

“I know, dear. But patience is a virtue, after all,” he chided. Aziraphale sat back on his haunches and snapped his fingers to remove his clothes. Now was not the time for dilly-dallying. 

Naked, he lubed up his cock in a perfunctory manner and lined himself up with Crowley. Crowley relaxed as much as he could, given the circumstances, to ease his husband’s way. 

Once settled, Aziraphale ran his lube-free hand up Crowley’s back as they both adjusted to the sensation. Still spread out on the bed, Crowley groaned at how _full_ he felt. The angel’s cock sent sparks of desire up his spine. 

Aziraphale slowly, tantalisingly pulled out in a smooth stroke. He pushed back in, hands on Crowley’s hips to keep him steady, thumbs gripping his arse to open him further. He built up his pace and Crowley felt himself leak more and more onto the bed. Who needed heaven when he had this?

After sometime Aziraphale spoke again, breaking the near-silence which had only been filled with the repetitive slap of flesh on flesh. 

“You know,” he began, punctuated with a thrust, “I wasn’t a particular fan of Plato, and it _is_ terribly amatonormative but,” he reached out and swept Crowley’s sweat-soaked hair of his neck, “you do seem made for me, my love.” 

Crowley moaned into the pillow at the hint of possession, already so beyond words. 

Aziraphale switched tactics to long, slow drags of his cock in and out of Crowley. Crowley never understood how he remained in such control. The angel could simply roll up his sleeves or lick a spoon clean and Crowley dissolved into a whimpering mess. Here he was, naked and cock-deep inside of his husband and Aziraphale was waxing poetic about them being soulmates. Lord, Crowley loved him. 

Aziraphale let out a huff of breath. The hand that had been patting Crowley’s hair suddenly fisted in it, tight, as the angel rearranged Crowley as he saw fit. “Yes, made for me indeed,” he nodded to himself as he watched Crowley’s hands cling to the sheets, back bowed. 

Crowley whined and Aziraphale tightened his grip, his other now pressed between sharp shoulder-blades. 

“The other half of myself. I am not myself without you, Crowley. You are the best part of me,” Aziraphale continued his steady, thorough pace despite Crowley’s noises of protest. “To be without you is to be unbalanced, untethered. You are my anchor, my dear. The rock upon which I will build my church.” Crowley clenched around him and Aziraphale picked up speed, hand more firmly planted on his back. 

He panted as he spoke, now. Brow slick with sweat, chest reddened under pale hair. “I will worship you, always and forever. My altar, dedicated only to you,” Crowley whined and tried to rub himself off on the bed. The orgasm he had during their wake-up sex seemed like a distant memory at this point. He positively _ached_ with need. 

Aziraphale noticed and hooked his hands under Crowley’s hips, pulling him back to meet every thrust. Heat pooled in Aziraphale’s stomach and he pounded into Crowley. “I know what you want, dear, and you shall have it. When I say so,” he added, and Crowley groaned. 

His large, thick fingers gripped the pale skin of Crowley’s hips. Aziraphale knew that it would leave a bruise and that Crowley would spend the next week trouser-less at every opportunity, if only to examine them. 

“My love,” Aziraphale exhaled as he pictured the image. The heat that had been building coiled tight and he fucked Crowley with abandon. “My love, my light, my life, my twin star. Oh, how I love you, _Crowley,”_ he shuddered with a moan. “Mine,” Aziraphale swore and came. 

His hips stuttered as he gave a few shallow thrusts with his softening cock, fucking his come back into Crowley. He pulled out and admired Crowley’s red hole. Aziraphale used a thumb to catch the drip of semen that had run down his inner thigh and shove it back in. 

“Please,” Crowley whispered as his knees finally gave out. Aziraphale flipped him over one handed to lie on his back. 

Crowley was an absolute vision. From his wild red hair, to the necklace of love-bites Aziraphale had given him earlier, his spit-slick reddened lips, down all the way to the bruises blooming on his hips and his hard, leaking cock. 

Aziraphale took in his fill and then met Crowley’s eyes once more. The pupils were blown wide, practically eclipsing the whole iris. His pointed teeth were dug into his lip and his hands twisted around the sheets as he strained to not touch himself. 

“Good boy, Crowley. You’ve done so well, you’ve made me so happy. Now, what would you like?” 

Aziraphale had considered him like the finest dessert cart. There were so many options. Crowley knew he wouldn’t last no matter what he chose, but still didn’t want to make the call. 

“Whatever you want,” he whispered, vulnerability still painful to the millennia-hardened demon. 

Aziraphale smiled. It hadn’t been a test but oh, what a delight that was to hear. This beautiful submission of Crowley’s. It made Aziraphale almost feel… holy. 

“Of course,” Aziraphale replied from between Crowley’s splayed thighs. He ran his hands up the tops of them then moved around and down as he threw them over his shoulders. 

Aziraphale proceeded to sloppily eat his own cum from Crowley’s hole. It made a filthy, wet sound as he dug his tongue in as deep as it could go. Crowley was so far gone above him that he didn’t even make a sound. He just stared wide-eyed at the ceiling as he was overcome with pleasure. 

Aziraphale used two fingers to scoop out where he couldn’t reach with his human tongue. He was momentarily distracted by remembering how deep Crowley’s own tongue could go into him. He swallowed then focused back on the task at hand, drawn out of thought by Crowley tensing when he brushed his sensitive prostate. 

Aziraphale sucked the two cum-covered fingers into his mouth, licking between them before he sat up again. Without preamble he grabbed Crowley’s sopping cock and started jerking him off. Between Aziraphale’s spit covered hand and Crowley’s own pre-cum, there was no need for lube. 

Crowley’s hips thrust up into Aziraphale’s hot, wet grip. It felt like he had been hard for eons. He could feel how open he still was and the dull throb of Aziraphale’s fingerprints pressed into his skin. He looked down the bed and moaned at the sight. Aziraphale was flushed and sweating and gloriously fucked out below him. The eye contact he made was blazing with heat and Crowley fell back to the bed, overcome. 

Aziraphale moved up to look at him properly and to bite at one erect nipple. It was so much for Crowley to take.

The angel sucked once more as his hand continued, privately thinking of how good Crowley would look with nipple piercings. Ah, one thing at a time he supposed. He was barely used to wearing his wedding ring. Aziraphale released his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and stretched up further to whisper in Crowley’s ear. 

“Come, darling," he commanded.

Crowley began to shake as the tension that had been building for the better part of the afternoon reached a crescendo. His toes curled, his grip on the sheets tightened and he threw the long column of his throat back as he came all over Aziraphale’s hand and his own chest. 

It was like an invisible string snapped and he fell back to the bed, panting heavily. Aziraphale wiped his hand into the rest of the mess, into the skin of Crowley’s torso. He miraculously cleaned his hands as he took a moment to observe his love again. Beautiful. He then waved the rest of the cum away, knowing how messy the sheets would get if he didn’t. 

Aziraphale moved up to cuddle Crowley and drew him to lie back-to-chest. The angel then threw a (literal) leg over Crowley's and one of his hands came to rest over his beating heart. 

He attempted to brush the red curls into some semblance of neatness and swept them away from Crowley's face. He truly wanted to bathe Crowley but quietly thought he might drown if he did right now, he was so blissed out. Aziraphale, of course, was more than happy to wait. 

“You did so well, love. You are _so_ very good, perfect for me,” he whispered. 

Crowley smiled and buried his face in the pillow. He murmured something back that sounded awfully like “only for you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are life, I would love it if you left some. 
> 
> Talk to me on tumblr @ineffable-anathema


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